S&S, M&M's, S&M?
by those saboteurs
Summary: Just another random one-shot. S&S. Hehe. Takes place before Scott and Shelby got together, though.


**Disclaimer: **Not mine, etc.

**Author's Note: **Oh man. I'm on a roll. This is so incredibly random. But there is no S&M. There _is_ S&S, as well as M&M's. So, happy? Maybe a bit OOC, and for that I apologize. Oh yes, and it's in Scott's POV, if you couldn't tell.

**S&S, M&M's...S & M?**

He watched her from afar. Her yellow-blond hair was so soft looking, he just wanted to touch it; and it was not the jaundice-yellow you get when your liver fails, and not piss yellow and not even corn yellow: it was golden-yellow, and it reminded him of rolling northern California hills in the summer, especially at sunset, when the last orange rays of light filtered through the fields and fields of golden gossamer hilltops. He inhaled deeply, wistful, and then gagged when the smell of the cafeteria food invaded his nostrils.

Food. Oh yes. That was what he was in the cafeteria for in the first place. Right.

He tore his eyes from the back of her head and glanced around himself surreptitiously, just for good measure (to assure his ego that no one had caught him staring like a fool at _Shelby Merrick_...), and turned to his tray. Food. Oh yes...? No. The sorry excuse for carbohydrates, fats, proteins, and carcinogens on his tray was definitely not...food. M&M's...he was in the mood for M hadn't tasted chocolate for so long, or maybe it was just his taste buds that had dulled. Call it a compulsion, call it what you will. He heard girls only have comfort foods—but that's not true. Chocolate made him feel less lonely.

So did Shelby Merrick.

He felt embarrassed, and so he felt like giggling to cover it up. Which is really stupid, if you think about it, but he couldn't help the tickle that quirked the corners of his mouth upward for a brief moment. Again, he glanced around surreptitiously, just to assure his ego that no one had seen him smile. Because he was tough, he was macho. He was Scott Barringer. Teenage delinquent extraordinaire. Hell, yeah.

He coughed lightly to cover up the laugh that barely escaped his throat, but not that anyone would have heard otherwise. He was sitting by himself—tough? Macho? Teenage delinquent extraordinaire? Hell, no. He wanted M&M's. They made him feel less lonely.

He found himself staring at the back of Shelby Merrick's head again. He didn't quite understand it. Her hair—she had lovely, lovely hair, by the way, all the way down to the roots. The kind of hair you just want to run your fingers through. Not like Elaine's hair, which was dark and thick. Hers was light and golden and made of silk. Well, almost. He didn't realize that he had leaned forward in his seat, closer to the back of her head. She must smell good, he insisted, and maybe if he leaned forward enough he would find out. She must smell like flowers and honey and northern California hills in the summer...

"What are you doing?"

He jerked back so hastily that he almost tipped the entire chair over. Boy, that would be embarrassing; enough to warrant another surreptitious glance. Surreptitious—such a great word. Kind of like yellow. There are lots of kinds of yellow. Yellow can seem so sickly and dead-like, but it can also be so lively and bright. He wondered if they had yellow M&M's, because suddenly he couldn't remember, and if he would eat them if they did.

Someone cleared their throat, a dry, scratchy sound, kind of like tires scraping over gravel. It had a higher pitch, and not at all very rough or harsh, but still dry and scratchy. He glanced up, and the switch from that glorious yellow-blonde to deep espresso made him blink. "Juliette," he said.

"What were you looking at?" her voice was light and sleek, but had that faintly sinister edge that implied that she already knew.

"Oh, nothing," he lied, and he felt he was getting rather good at it. "Just staring off into space."

"Space...as in the back of Shelby Merrick's head?"

Yes, actually, yes, because he couldn't really see outer space from his position. And Shelby Merrick's shimmering expanse of golden tendrils was just as nice, and he was just as inclined to let himself be lost in it. "No."

"Right."

An awkward silence settled between him and Juliette that kind of made him wish she would disappear. He would much rather waste minutes making lazy connections to northern California hills in the summer and M&M's and the back of Shelby Merrick's head.

"Normally, when a girl finds her guy ogling another girl, she gets angry," Juliette said, "And then the guy says, 'no, of course not, baby, you're the only one I have eyes for.'"

"Romantic, but no. You didn't get angry."

"Just because I don't _seem_ angry doesn't mean I'm _not_."

"Give it a rest, Jules," he sighed. "It's not like you haven't been 'ogling' Auggie."

She gasped, a little indignant noise, and frowned. "That's not _true_, you know that's not true."

"Whatever."

She made a 'humph' noise in the back of her throat. And then she promptly left.

He was a few minutes away from convincing himself that he had been rude and insensitive and needed to apologize to Juliette, but something caught his eye. Shelby Merrick had tilted her head slightly to the side, catching the sunlight streaming in from the window and reflecting it right into his eyes. He blinked. Her fingers combed aimlessly through her hair. It glowed as if irradiated. Like a distant, radioactive star that burned pale yellow somewhere else in the galaxy. Yellow...M&M's? His stomach growled—he was still hungry.

He still felt strangely dissatisfied, and dimly aware that no amount of food could cure his desperate ache. No amount of M&M's or chocolate would make him any less lonely. He felt starved, deprived of anything other than this tentative and lukewarm bond he held with Juliette. He wanted something more. He wanted someone who smelled like honey and flowers and northern California hills in the summer, even though he'd never been to any northern California hills. Someone who glowed like irradiated stars and had yellow hair, and who could be so humanly flawed to seem dead and sickly sometimes and at other times so vividly alive, like he was. Yeah, that's it; someone like him. Maybe he didn't even know much about her, but something made him less lonely, something really did, much more than any M&M's or chocolate.

Shelby Merrick.


End file.
